


There is Pansies. That's For Thoughts

by Hilarita



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-28
Updated: 2005-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28386666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hilarita/pseuds/Hilarita
Summary: Neville observes as things go wrong at Hogwarts





	There is Pansies. That's For Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written for [](https://featherxquill.livejournal.com/profile)[**featherxquill**](https://featherxquill.livejournal.com/) 's Betrayal challenge on [](https://hp-oldladysb.livejournal.com/profile)[**hp_oldladysb**](https://hp-oldladysb.livejournal.com/). Written post-HBP, and contains very mild spoilers. Beta'd for me by the lovely, helpful [](https://featherxquill.livejournal.com/profile)[](https://featherxquill.livejournal.com/)**featherxquill**

It was very odd, Neville thought as he pruned the biting apples, being back at Hogwarts. There was barely any school to come back to, for a start. The staff were all still there, except for Snape, of course, but there were fewer pupils. Almost all of Slytherin had gone; only a few students still sat there. Most of them were being tutored at home, or had been sent to Durmstrang, so rumour said. The other houses were distinctly thin in the lower years, and many of the sixth and seventh years had left, gone to get jobs or melt away into the Muggle world, if they had relatives there. He was the only boy left in his dormitory. Hermione was still around, but she was the only Gryffindor girl doing NEWTs to remain. Neville suspected she was staying simply in order to use the library for her research. Madame Pince wouldn't let unauthorised people near the stacks. Hermione had a permanent pass for the Restricted Section from Professor McGonagall, and every few days she walked into Hogsmeade and Apparated away to see Harry and the others.

Neville wished he could be doing something useful. He was of age, after all. But his inheritance was bound by the strictest of wizarding law, and he couldn't touch a penny of his money until he was twenty-five. He just couldn't afford to leave Hogwarts and work for the Order of the Phoenix, even if they'd have him. Ron and Ginny had persuaded their brothers to add them to the staff of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, though Neville privately thought that it had a lot to do with Harry telling the twins to take them on, in return for not enquiring about who they sold the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to.

Lessons were very odd these days, all the houses together. Even so, Neville was the only person doing Herbology. Defence Against the Dark Arts was suddenly immensely popular. They had a real Auror taking it: Mavis Speedwell (and Hermione assured him that she wasn't using Polyjuice). Transfiguration was taught by Tonks (and Neville knew that it was no accident that there were two fully-trained Aurors on the premises). Slughorn wandered the corridors, a pale semblance of his usual self. He was losing weight (unkind ways said he lost a pound every time Slytherin lost a pupil now he was head of house). Tonks was head of Gryffindor, though Neville didn't see much of her. She spent her free time on patrol; Neville could see her walking past the greenhouses out of the corner of his eye.

\----------

Neville slowly repotted a cutting of Devil's Snare. He'd hit it with a Freezing charm, so it couldn't move, and he had plenty of time to think about the school. The Sorting that year had been feeble: two Muggleborns only, and only ten others. One had been sorted into Slytherin, and promptly burst into tears. Five of the remainder had joined Gryffindor.

Neville was worried about Professor Sprout. Everyone noticed that Slughorn was half the man he was, and that McGonagall was even more thin-lipped than usual, now she was headmistress. But when Neville mentioned to Hermione that Sprout wasn't quite right, she just snapped, 'No-one's their usual self, Neville. Don't be silly.' Hermione only ever showed up for Defence classes now, but no-one complained. So there weren't any other people to notice that, while Professor Sprout taught her classes all right, she was increasingly vague about the care of the plants in the greenhouses.

A few weeks after talking to Hermione, Neville noticed that Sprout had failed to mulch the Rambling Roses, which now muttered sulkily at the back of greenhouse two. He sorted that out, and realised that he'd not seen Sprout in the greenhouses after class at all, for three days.

He'd not been supervised in the greenhouses at all that year; Sprout had always reckoned that seventh years ought to know what they were doing. But she was always somewhere around.

Neville stopped work and sat down on a sack of compost, idly cleaning the dirt from under his nails. He didn't have enough evidence to go to Hermione again, not yet. She'd just laught at him. He'd have to watch Professor Sprout very carefully, and note down anything unusual. And he'd have to take care of the greenhouses as well; many of the plants were needed for healing potions, or just for classes. He went back up to Gryffindor Tower, took a clean piece of parchment and a quill, and noted down the date, the periods of Sprout's unexpected absence, and what she had failed to do.

The next day, Sprout was back in the greenhouses, nurturing the seedlings as if she'd never been away. Everything continued as normal - well, as normal as things were these days, with pupils being called home for funerals. Some never came back.

\---------

One afternoon, as Neville was sitting in Charms, there was a dreadful shrieking. Everyone rushed out from their classrooms to find a third-year girl lying on the stairs, blood everywhere. The shrieking came from Professor Trelawney, who had skidded on the blood and fallen onto the poor girl. She was still just about alive when they took her up to the Infirmary. McGonagall summoned the school together, and gave a talk that sounded like she was channelling Mad-Eye Moody. She talked about Constant Vigilance, always carrying your wand, and going round in pairs, in case someone hauled you off and cast Imperius on you, making you betray the school. Neville thought McGonagall was on a different planet. There just weren't enough of the older years to do that.

But the incident made him feel guilty again that he wasn't out there helping Harry, so he wrote to his grandmother, asking her permission to leave school and have access to the interest on his parents' estate, stating that he wanted to help in the fight. He got a stiff letter back by return of owl, saying that he was spineless for wanting to leave Hogwarts at the first sign of trouble, and that his parents would never have done such a thing.

Neville was furious, so he took himself off to the beds behind greenhouse one, which needed digging for the winter planting of Pernicious Potatoes. These were very temperamental tubers, and the ground had to be dug without magic. So he started digging. After a while, he stopped imagining that each clod of earth was his grandmother's stuffed vulture hat, and started to think about what was happening at Hogwarts. The teachers had been round, blocking off whole sections of the school. Hermione had handed over the Marauder's Map, and even the route to the Shrieking Shack no longer worked. Neville always quizzed her eagerly about what the others were doing out in the world. She couldn't always tell him, but often seemed glad to chat to him. The house-elves were uneasy. They thought someone was trying to get into the kitchens to poison the food, and they kept coming up to tell Hermione about it. A sachet containing muscarine, amongst other things, was found outside the kitchens. Dobby had appeared in the Gryffindor common room gesticulating wildly after that incident.

Suddenly it hit him. Professor Sprout had to be under Imperius! She was certainly vague and forgetful, missing unexpectedly. But would anyone believe him? He was very nearly a Squib, and Professor Sprout was a proper witch, and a respected Hogwarts Professor and head of house. She wouldn't let herself be cursed, would she? He'd need proper evidence. He'd have to try to follow her after class.

First he went back up to Gryffindor dormitory, and left a note on his bed, saying what he was doing. He'd read too many books in which someone failed to say that they were tailing a murderer or other criminal, and then died horribly. This was usually the detective's stupid girlfriend. Neville didn't ever cast himself as the hero, but he really didn't want to be cast as the idiotic girl. He also updated his list of Sprout's movements. He liked Professor Sprout; she had encouraged him, and she'd shown him that he was genuinely good with plants, unlike with animals. He'd lost Trevor at least once a month until he'd died of a wasting disease last year. But his mimbulus mimbletonia was still going strong, and they were incredibly difficult to cultivate outside a greenhouse. He didn't like to think of Sprout causing havoc in Hogwarts. She loved the place as much as anyone. But Imperius could make almost anyone act like that. He had to follow her, and that was that.

That day, after lessons, Sprout went to the library, into the Restricted Section. Neville sat just outside it with a Charms book, and carefully watched the exit, while getting on with his essay for Flitwick. She didn't seem to be doing anything dreadful, though he couldn't see properly. Hermione was probably in there anyway, and she'd notice if Sprout did anything unusual. At dinner time, Sprout went to the Great Hall, and ate perfectly normally, before heading off to the teachers' wing. Neville didn't dare follow her there, so he headed off to the greenhouses, where he watered the plants that needed it, adding a little Magi-grow to the plants needed for the third years' lesson in repotting next week. Tired out, he went to bed.

Next morning there was a dreadful commotion. Neville had come down to breakfast rather late (he had a free period that morning), and half the staff were missing, as was Hermione. He asked a fifth year Ravenclaw what had happened, and the girl, eyes like saucers, told him that Madame Pince had rushed into the Great Hall about five minutes earlier, saying that Hermione had had an accident, so most of the staff dashed off. Neville hastily downed a cup of tea and ate three pieces of toast, then ran off towards the library, before realising that by now Hermione would be in the Infirmary. He had a sick feeling in his stomach, which certainly wasn't from bolting his breakfast. Perhaps Hermione hadn't been in the Restricted Section last night; perhaps Sprout had been able to set a trap for her.

He ran along the corridors, up stairs, stopping only when he nearly fell over Madame Pince. She only ever left the library for meals. Something was wrong. Her face was grey and covered with sweat, and a thin trickle of saliva ran out of her mouth. She clutched her stomach tightly. Neville picked her up, nearly dropped her, then made a mighty effort and got her balanced and carried her the remaining way to the Infirmary.

Madame Pomfrey was busy, so Neville put Madame Pince on a bed, before tapping Madame Pomfrey on the shoulder.

'Er, sorry to interrupt, but Madame Pince isn't very well. I think it's her stomach.' He thought she might be poisoned after all the house-elves had said.

'Stomach? Are you sure? I'd swear that Miss Granger hasn't just been hit by a load of books and a nasty spell. I think she's been poisoned.' Madame Pomfrey looked grave.

'Poisoned? Where's Professor McGonagall?' The old title came to mind, and he looked round wildly in case she was in the room.

'She had to go off. The house-elves were in a terrible state over something.'

Neville didn't wait. He dashed off to Gryffindor Tower to get his notes, then, heart hammering, he ran back down towards the headmistress' office. He gave the password, 'Tartan Treats,' but the gargoyle didn't open. He stood there, panicking, until he realised that McGonagall had to be somewhere, and he could send her a note. So he ran back to Gryffindor Tower, added today's evidence to the list, stated his theory, and his intention to go and keep an eye on Professor Sprout, then ran, panting miserably, all the way up to the Owlery, before attaching the note to a fast-looking owl.

'It's for Professor McGonagall. Its incredibly urgent.'

The owl hooted, and zoomed off out of the window. Neville wearily made his way down to the greenhouses; Sprout had a lesson currently, but it would soon be over, and then she had no more lessons until the afternoon; Neville had studied her timetable, which she kept pinned up in greenhouse five. He had time to walk there.

He passed many classrooms on the way to the greenhouses; inside, he saw the numbers were thinned, or sick-looking people being helped to the Infirmary by their friends. Something had clearly been poisoned. Neville just hoped it wasn't the toast and tea. He thought he recalled Hermione saying that it was hard to poison tea undetectably; he hope this was true, but he was hopeless at remembering potions.

He arrived at greenhouse three just as the second years were leaving. Sprout looked anxious, telling the students that if they felt the least unwell they should go to the Infirmary. She turned to Neville.

'What are you doing here, Neville? I thought you had Charms now?'

'Er, it's not a good idea for any of us to be on our own just now.' He couldn't meet her eyes. 'I think someone might have poisoned the food. I came to check you were all right.' He risked a quick glance at her. She had a predatory gleam in her eye. He backed away from her, until he realised that he was getting perilously close to the Carnivorous Chestnut shrubs and the Venomous Tentacula.

'That's really very kind of you Neville. You know, you're really a very thoughtful young man.' She was moving closer again, and she looked ready to pounce. Neville took a deep breath and fumbled for his wand. Sprout stepped onto a crate by the potting bench, then leant towards him and brushed her lips against his. Neville didn't dare move back in case the plants got him, but he whipped his wand round at point-blank range and shouted, 'Stupefy!'

Sprout toppled sideways off the crate, but Neville caught her with a swift Mobilicorpus. He began the long walk back towards the school, feeling like he'd run a marathon already that morning. He walked up to McGonagall's office, wand hand trembling with the effort of holding the spell on Sprout. This time, the gargoyle opened to his word, and he lurched up the staircase, feeling almost dizzy with reaction.

Professor McGonagall was there with Slughorn, who was speaking.

'So you see, we have plenty of atropine, the specific antidote, and they should all be on their feet in no time. It was very ingenious to use muscarine - you can't notice it, especially when it's served with mushrooms, and it can even be deadly-'

'Mr Longbottom, could you explain to me why you have Professor Sprout hanging upside down in my office?' McGonagall had noticed him! In his shock he dropped his wand, causing Sprout to fall to the floor.

'Er, I didn't mean to drop her. She's, um, under Imperius, Professor. She must be. She tried to kiss me.' Treacherously, Neville felt himself blushing. 'I sent you a note.'

'So it was you who sent me that very insistent owl. I haven't had time to read the note yet. It only arrived a minute ago. I imagine the owl had trouble finding me; I've been all over the school.' She accio'd the note from the table and started scanning it as she spoke.

'Well, she hasn't been herself for ages. She was in the Restricted Section yesterday. And muscarine is a poison from fungi. We have some growing in greenhouse five.'

McGonagall looked aghast yet disbelieving. Neville felt like he was going to cry, but kept a hold on himself. 'I didn't expect anything like this to happen,' he said. 'I didn't want to accuse her of anything.'

'You did the right thing, Mr Longbottom. Fifty points to Gryffindor. And please return to your common room. Classes are cancelled today.'

Neville made his way back to the common room. He felt most peculiar. He was exhilarated that he'd been right, and that he'd managed to stop Sprout, getting all the spells right; upset that he'd not been able to stop Hermione and the others from getting hurt; and he felt regretful. He felt regretful that he'd had to stop Sprout from kissing him, but she had been out of her mind and couldn't have wanted to do it really. He told himself firmly that he just had a silly crush on her, and he'd grow out of it in time. He also felt regretful that no-one else had known her well enough to notice that she was under Imperius, and not her normal self.

The hall was very nearly empty when Neville went down for lunch. There were no mushrooms to be seen. After it was over, Neville plucked up the courage to ask McGonagall how Professor Sprout was.

'She's still in the Infirmary in a state of collapse. She just fell down after we took the Imperius off her, and Poppy gave her a calming draught. I don't see why you can't go up and see her.'

He slowly walked up to the Infirmary. Hermione was sitting up in bed, next to Professor Sprout.

'Hello, Neville,' Hermione called.

'Hello. I actually came up to apologise to Professor Sprout. I dropped her earlier.'

'So I heard. McGonagall, I mean, the headmistress, told me all about it when I came round.' Hermione beckoned him over. 'Look, Neville,' she murmured, ' You need to say something to Professor Sprout. She keeps crying when she thinks I'm not looking. It's not her fault. Ron got caught by Imperius last week, and nearly killed Fleur before they could stop him. He was hit in the back of the head by the curse. Never stood a chance.' This last was said louder.

'OK, Hermione.' He turned round and sat in the chair next to Professor Sprout's bed.

'Hello, Professor. I-I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I didn't mean to drop you.' Sprout looked very pale in the face, and her eyes were puffy and red.

'That's all right, dear boy. I also have to apologise for what I did to you earlier.' She looked like she was going to start crying again.

'That's all right. You couldn't help it.' They sat in awkward silence for a while, until Sprout spoke again.

'I understand from Hermione that you'd like to do something more useful against You-Know-Who, but that you don't have enough money.'

'That's right, Professor.'

'I think I may be able to help you out. There's a nursery in Staffordshire, and the owner wrote to me, asking if I knew anyone who could be his assistant. It's part-time, and there's a room on the premises. What do you think?'

'It's fantastic. Thanks a million!' He leant forward and kissed Professor Sprout on the cheek.

Hermione said, 'I'll tell Harry where you are; I expect he'll visit you soon.'

'Here's the address, Neville, and my references. If you send off a note now, you could be there in a week or so.'

'Thanks,' he said again, and dashed off to the Owlery to send a letter to his gran to say that he was leaving school and going to work in Staffordshire.

\---------

That night, Neville lay in bed. He was finding it difficult to fall asleep. He kept seeing the moment in the greenhouses when Sprout kissed him, or the moment he dropped her on the floor in McGonagall's office. He still felt nervous and alert, as though something were going to happen. He fell to thinking about how Professor Sprout could be put under Imperius. She wasn't likely to have been cursed during a fight like Ron, and she didn't see lots of strangers like Madame Rosmerta did. She'd been quite normal right at the beginning of term; it had been a few weeks before she'd started forgetting things. She hadn't had any new deliveries, she hadn't left the grounds, and no-one had got in, otherwise the Aurors would have noticed. Who could have cursed her? Could it be someone else at the school? There weren't any Slytherins left, and if Draco was anything to go by, they'd have real difficulty in casting an Unforgivable that well.

He sat bolt upright in bed. No-one had asked Sprout how she'd been cursed; Hermione would have told him all about it. He had to go down and ask her now, otherwise anything might happen. He threw on his robes (incidentally putting them on inside out, but he didn't notice that) and ran to the Infirmary barefoot, clutching his wand.

He didn't care that it was the middle of the night. He had dreadful visions of Death Eaters sneaking round the school, making their way to Professor Sprout's bed. He only hoped he could be in time. He laughed wildly; he was being almost heroic, and no-one was there to see. He felt very silly, but he had to know. He _had_ to. It could be anyone. Well, not Hermione.

The Infirmary was very dark, only the faintest of lights allowing him to see the beds. Most of the poison victims were down the far end, and everyone was asleep, thanks to potions. He padded over the cold linoleum of the floor to Professor Sprout's bed. He took her by the shoulder and shook.

'Wake up, Professor. It's important. I have to ask you something-'

A faint draught behind him caused him to turn round. The Infirmary lights flared on, and Hermione moaned. But Neville's attention was held by Sybill Trelawney, standing right in front of him, holding out her wand.

'I foresaw that you would come here. The Inner Eye never lies. I admit my Eye was clouded when it came to you, boy. But it was made apparent to me that I would find you here. I cursed Professor Sprout. I admit it.' She giggled, a sound that reminded Neville uncomfortably of Dolores Umbridge. He tried to play for time, because he could see that his life was now measurable in minutes, despite his dismal marks in Divination.

'But why, Professor? Why did you need to cast Imperius on Professor Sprout? Do you hate us all that much?' He slipped his hand towards his pocket, and fastened his fingers round his wand, keeping his eyes on Trelawney all the time.

'You are foolish. You have no talent at Divination. You spend your time grubbing in soil and have no time for the Higher Arts. It has been shown to me that the Dark Lord's victory was inevitable. I needed an instrument to help me in the ways of Destiny! Drop your wand.'

Neville, startled by the change of subject, did so. It clattered on the floor. He'd thought about casting Expelliarmus, but he didn't really want to start a full-on duel in the hospital wing, and he wasn't fast enough to disarm her without some kind of external surprise to help him. Did he detect movement behind Trelawney's back? He couldn't tell.

'Have you gone mad? Even without Dumbledore, Hogwarts will never fall to V-voldemort.'

'No, no. I see it clearly. Without the Dark Lord, we would be overrun by Muggles. The art of Divination would die out - it can only survive in the purest of bloods.' Neville backed away towards Hermione's bed. Trelawney went on speaking. 'The Inner Eye does not lie; it did not lie about your coming here tonight, it does not lie about the threat to the Art. The Art must be defended. It is my life!' She was waving her arms wildly now, and her voice was getting louder. Could he provoke her into making a noise that would wake up Madame Pomfrey?

'It wasn't the Inner Eye that brought you down here,' Neville stated boldly, though he wasn't as sure as he felt. He really did hope that he could see movement behind Trelawney; he couldn't keep her here all night. 'It was cold logic. I worked it out. If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have worked out that you'd be trying to catch me, or whoever came to ask. You're just an old fraud, and Umbridge was right.'

'You evil child!' She shrieked and leapt at him, but a bolt of light shot across the Infirmary, and Professor Trelawney fell stunned at his feet. He had been right; Poppy Pomfrey had come to see what was wrong in her Infirmary.

'Well done, Neville. I heard what she said, so we've proper evidence to put before the Aurors. Tonks should be up here in a minute.' Nadame Pomfrey put Professor Trelawney in a body bind, then levitated her over onto one of the spare beds. Then Neville felt all the effort of the day fall on him at once, his knees gave way and he fell over onto Hermione's bed. She woke up to find Neville sitting on the edge of her bed, with an unconscious Professor at his feet.

'Neville, you shouldn't make a habit of this,' she said.


End file.
